Reilly giggled. “What? Will it offend your delicate sensibilities?”
“Yes,” he insisted, setting the coffee mug on the kitchen island and wiping his hand on his jeans. “Yes, it will.”
He heard them both laughing as he stomped toward the bedroom. It took him two minutes to pull on his belt and boots. Another minute to tuck his cell phone in his pocket and shrug on his coat.
When he returned, he found Tate and Reilly still laughing.
Stone pointed toward the door. “Out.”
“But—”
“Outside. You two pains in the ass are gonna help me unload that trailer. Then I’m gonna help you load it back up.”
“Really?” Reilly squealed with delight. “You’re the best.”
Stone rolled his eyes and grabbed the trailer key off the counter.
Three hours later, everything was unloaded from the trailer, and at least a quarter of Reilly’s furniture had been loaded into it.
Stone had been doing most of the work himself for a while since Reilly and Tate had made the excuse that they needed to pack the rest of their things. Somehow, they managed to avoid anyactualwork, choosing to wrap each individual item in enough bubble wrap to protect a small child. Then they ran into issues trying to fit everything into boxes meant more for shipping packages than packing houses. They looked like they were playing a complicated game of Tetris as they tried to get it to fit.
To put it simply, they weren’t making a dent, leaving Stone with barely enough room to move his own shit into the house.
To keep them motivated, he’d started piling their crap in corners. It was only fair, considering they’d promised they would be moved out before he moved in. Since Tate already confessed they’d planned to take care of it today—rather than three weeks ago when they learned that he was moving back—Stone didn’t feel bad about it.
Not that he needed their shit out of the barn. He didn’t have enough to fill the place. Mostly bedroom furniture. If they took the couch and the dining room table, he would be left to sit on bar stools. Unless they took those, too.
“Looks like I got here just in time.”
Stone glanced over his shoulder as he set down a box. Donovan walked into the house with a grin the size of Texas plastered on his face. Strangely, it grew even wider when he locked onto Tate, who was in the process of wrapping a fucking metal spatula in bubble wrap.
“Not if you planned to do the heavy liftin’,” Stone told his brother.
Donovan smirked. “Like I said, just in time.”
“I hope you brought pizza,” Reilly called from the bathroom, where she was probably wrapping toothpaste in bubble wrap.
“Nope, but I could run and get some,” Donovan offered, walking over to Tate.
Was it lunchtime already? He glanced at his watch. Damn. Almost eleven.
Stone stared with amusement as his brother tipped Tate’s chin with one finger and leaned down to kiss him. Tate kissed him back, his cheeks his own personal mood ring, turning pink to signify what he was feeling.
Stone cleared his throat, reminding them they weren’t alone.
“Is he gettin’ pizza?” Reilly shouted.
“Hold your horses,” Donovan said, glancing over at Stone. “You hungry?”
Stone wiped his dusty hands on his jeans and glanced at his watch. “I could eat.”
“You look like you could use a beer, too.”
“And a nap,” he admitted. “Not necessarily in that order.”
“Hey, Rye!” Donovan hollered.
Reilly stuck her head out of the bathroom. “Yeah?”
